They say that I’m crazy.
That this perpetual motion of unexplained emotion
Is something that will only break my heart.
But I’ve had broken hearts before.
I’ve had a dozen broken hearts and I’ve managed to pick myself up.
But the option.
The other option is deep freeze.
A cryogenic isolation of this heart of mine.
It’s dropping it down that tube, pressing that button, and forgetting I ever had one.
And I don’t want to be that person.
That person that has become so jaded they no longer believe in the love that once caused them to move.
I’d rather be the girl with the broken heart, all wrapped up in her warm sweater trying her best to hold herself together
Than be the girl in the flashy clothes and the center of the party who doesn’t remember who she is anymore.
Isn’t that what ABC Family has been trying to tell us the whole time anyways?